


Aftermath

by Fueled_By_Dairy_Queen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Mild Gore, insensitive jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fueled_By_Dairy_Queen/pseuds/Fueled_By_Dairy_Queen
Summary: The losers have finally defeated the clown and return to the surface to ponder what they're to do about their wounds.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> So just a heads up this is basically just a writing exercise!!! I've been trying to write characters more apt to how they were in the book bc...Idk I just kinda want to I guess lol. This is mostly for Stan cos he's my favourite but of course the others are there as well- Either way I hope it turns out good! It's probably just going to be this one part but if people like it enough I might add onto it   
> Yes I know it's kind of insensitive but when was IT ever not

And so it was over just like that. They went in and defeated the clown-the FUCKING CLOWN-and returned back above ground. Fresh air had never felt nicer. Of course the whole group had come out with their own selection of cuts, scrapes, bruises, you name it. After all, they _did_ just defeat a killer, interstellar clown that wasn't really even a clown, but a spider, and that spider wasn't really even a spider, but more or less a set of dramatic strobe lights. They were tired and probably on the verge of death, which might have sounded like an overstatement if they weren't only eleven years old. They went to the barens first, of course, where else would they go? It was the only place they could think of in the haze of blood-loss. They had all flopped down and caught their breath for a long, long time, before sitting up again. 

"So...what now?" 

Ben had asked, still heaving breath but in decent enough shape to start speaking again. The others had just kind of shrugged save for Stan, who was still lying on the ground. For a moment everyone started to freak out because it didn't look like he was breathing, but were all shushed by Bill. "He's breathing buh-but it's just shuh-shuh-shallow." 

Stan looked miserable, possibly even more so than the others. He had a puncture wound on his stomach that was still bleeding pretty badly- The only thing stopping it even slightly was his own hand. But even then the blood was still leaking through his fingers. The others collectively ripped some part of their clothing off to make a sort of makeshift wrap for him, which had stopped the bleeding for like two seconds. Stan just went back to putting his hand over the wound again. 

Everyone was still on edge, together as they had been. Eddie had been resting against Richie and Bev was holding Ben's hand. Bill sort of leaned over Stan to make sure he didn't stop breathing. They'd come this far, and none of them figured they could deal with Stan dying right after that. Of course it was mostly because he was their friend-hell, all of their BEST friend in some fashion-but also because of a deep rooted pride. They won, and surely they should all live to know what they'd done. 

"Bill-" Stan choked, raising his hand up and grabbing the collar of his shirt, "Is it...too late..tooo..." He paused, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, "Make a 9/11 joke? Or are we all not gonna...talk about...tragedies-" 

The whole group just kind of blinked. "What the fuck is 9/11?" Richie asked, trying to settle his arms on his crossed legs. They didn't know about that because it hadn't happened yet- Stan knew, but he knew all sorts of things. And sometimes he was very insensitive with all the things he knew. 

Upon seeing all of his friends give him confused looks, Stan narrowed his eyes and asked, "What year is it?" 

"Jesus Christ. He's lost his mind." Mike whispered. Though it was barely even a whisper actually, everyone had heard it quite well. They all nodded absently in agreement. "Well we have to get him to a hospital! Do you SEE that bleeding? And now he's talking about shit that doesn't exist and doesn't even know what year it is." Eddie said, crossing his arms. "That's what blood-loss does." 

"Does it?" Bev asked, looking over her own wounds. Sure, they were bad, but it was safe to assume Stan was hit with the blunt end of the stick. "I feel fine but...I guess I'm not actively bleeding out." She frowned, looking over her still-bleeding wounds again. "Okay. Maybe I am but not like that." 

Stan finally sat up. "Nevermind. I didn't say anything. I uh. I'm gonna go home now," And he stood up, which everyone else had also done so in case he fell down. But he didn't. He was standing like nothing had happened, but still holding his side. "You know. I'm bleeding out. Ha-ha. Yeah. Gonna go do something for it." 

"At yr house? You need a hospital, Stan." Eddie said, still keeping his arms crossed with that look he gave. Stan just waved his hand and started walking, and so the others followed. "House is closer. Hospital is far away. Uhuhuhuh- Yeah. Uhhhhhh- I can get to my house faster." The others shared a concerned look, but continued to follow him home. 

They'd finally got to Stan's house. His parents weren't there, they'd gone on some "jewish business shit" as Richie said. It wasn't business and it wasn't Jewish, it was just a visit to extended family. Stan didn't want to go so his parents didn't make him. That's what the clown did, make adults make stupid decisions. Stan knew they'd realize they left an eleven year old at home and start coming home as fast as they could, but they were hours away now. Stan looked like he had something in mind that he was going to do, and didn't really hesitate to start. The others didn't want to sit down or touch anything so they didn't get blood on any of the nice furniture. 

Bill followed Stan around like a lost dog the entire time while he looked for whatever he was looking for. "Hey, Bill. Yr doing good. So good. Get me one of those wooden spoons." Bill gave him a look but figured he'd do that. Stan wasn't really thinking right, none of them supposed he really could be thinking right, and it made the asking for a wooden spoon seem less ridiculous. Why he wanted a wooden spoon of all things was beyond all of them, since they'd all been able to hear the conversation, but they didn't give it much thought. 

While Stan rummaged around Bill tried to think of other topics. It would get their minds off of what just happened. After drawing a blank he'd went over and asked the others for ideas. "Ahn-ything- I don't ruh-really care. But I can't think of ahn-anything." They all thought of something completely unrelated to talk about. Bev then snapped her fingers and asked the most cliche question- "What's yr perfect date?" 

They all just kind of scuffed their feet collectively and shyly said their own cliche things. Stan seemed to have found whatever he was looking for and was going to head to his room, but Bev had asked, "What about you, Stan?" 

He turned to her and the others, not looking thoughtful but more like he was just having trouble thinking at all. He closed his eyes and pushed his hair back with the hand that was holding the wooden spoon, mumbling a bit before finally saying "The day after Valentine's because all the chocolate and stuffed animals are on sale. That's the perfect date. February 15th." And then went on his way again. 

They all looked at each other for a long time in silence, before bursting out laughing. Bill ended up going after Stan again while the others just laughed at his comment. He might be losing blood but at least he still had his very strange sense of humour. Bill walked slowly, not because of privacy really, but more because his legs hurt. He didn't have any wounds on his legs, but he had been walking for a long time and was getting tired of it. 

He stood outside Stan's door and leaned against the wall, heaving with the effort of walking up a flight of steps. He would have been more embarrassed about being so tired after going up what, fifteen stairs, but he didn't really have the heart to be mean to himself right then. In all honesty, he felt like he was going to pass out, and felt himself sliding down into a sitting position. His ears were ringing so badly that he couldn't really hear anything, and it felt like he'd been sitting there for years before his ears stopped ringing and he felt less awful. Bill took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

Stan was holding the wooden spoon in-between his teeth, breathing raggedly himself. Once Bill had come in his spat out the spoon and lied down on the floor again. Stan had taken the wrap from his wound, and for a moment Bill was rushing to find it and put it back, but then he had realized the wound wasn't bleeding anymore. There was an ugly scar, but it wasn't bleeding. It was like it had healed all at once. "Stan- Yr wound I- You healed it! Yrself? How did you-"

Bill was cut off by Stan once again grabbing the collar of his shirt. "I didn't heal it with magic. I fucking- I fuck- I FUCKING CAUTERIZED IT-" He gritted his teeth again. 

Bill felt kind of stupid. He didn't know what cauterizing was, so he just stared absently. Stan opened his eyes again and stared back at him. "You know. Cauterizing. It's when you-"

"You fucking WHAT!?" 

It was Eddie. Despite Eddie looking like he'd just crawled out of a ditch, he pushed past Bill with enough force to knock him over. "Stan! You, you- Yr either the smartest mother-fucker or the dumbest! What the FUCK is wrong with you!?" Though he was yelling he was laughing, and soon after crying as well. Mike had went over to Stan as well. "I'd say it was smart. Who knows what would happen if we walked to the hospital while he was bleeding out?" 

The losers sat in an uncomfortable silence. 

"That's what they did. After the fire. The Black Spot. They cauterized their wounds. Some of the wounds were automatically cauterized." Stan broke the silence, still breathing heavily. The others looked a bit unsettled. "Yeah. I guess they did, Stan." Mike said, standing up. Bill crawled back over to Stan and put his hand on his shoulder. He didn't really want to put a lot of pressure on him, he didn't know where else Stan had been hurt. And they all sat down in Stan's room, covered in blood and looking like they'd come back from the dead. But perfectly happy. Happy to be together. 

And then they heard the door to the house open, and Stan's parents calling for him.


End file.
